


Never

by Jenshih_Blue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s02e08 Crossroad Blues, Implied Incest, Other, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course, it never does break him because this is his way of helping the man who has sacrificed so much for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never

There’s just a faint quiver at first, nothing more or less. And then the blossoming of color against undefiled beauty begins. First, a sharp, blinding scarlet, then a slow fade to a rosy pink that is only produced perfectly in nature. It’s that hue at the brink of the night sky as sunrise approaches, a soft splash of watercolors against the purity of a blank canvas.

He knows his brother would laugh at that, but he doesn’t care--not really.

It’s always been him; who was openly poetic, but he recognizes somewhere deep down, his brother has a soul far more poetic than he’s willing to admit. A gentle smile teases the corner of his lips as he raises his hand once again, much as an artist would lift a brush, dripping with paint except the only thing he has is love.

***

This is why, when they are finally alone behind closed doors, he accepts no arguments. His voice lowers, raspy tone reminiscent of shredded velvet or perhaps the sound of waves washing over fine crystalline sand. Just a whisper of what is to come.

"Strip."

It’s one simple word, but then words were not how they normally communicated. His brother looks up through thick lashes eyes shining with such emotion it nearly does him in right there. Of course, it never does break him because this is his way of helping the man who has sacrificed so much for him.

Without another word, clothes are peeled away revealing what he sees only as perfection despite the scars left behind by years of hunting. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, and muscled thighs. So beautiful and yet, despite that fact, it is more that draws him near than the physical. It’s the sadness he sees in those eyes as familiar to him as his own. He does this because he wants to make the sadness fade if but for a few hours.

Sitting down on the end of the bed, he nods and soon his brother is there, kneeling, and stretching his lean body across his thighs as he shifts them to support the weight. One hand, trails down from the base of his brother’s skull, fine hairs tickling his calloused fingertips, and he can feel the shiver that travels through his charge’s body. His fingers trace the curved path of spine beneath smooth skin, stilling when they reach the soft hollow above the sweet muscular swell of the canvas he will use to show his love.

Leaning in he whispers against the shell of his brother’s ear. "Do you understand why?"

He never lifts his gaze from the faded pattern of the worn carpet. "Yes." His voice trembles, so unlike the way he speaks to the world outside.

Lifting his hand, he smiles. Words are not what his brother needs now. What he needs is this to banish the thoughts he dared not speak aloud. The first strike is quick and ruthless, but the only sound he makes is a sharp inhalation of breath. The second causes the color to flare bright again, blood rising to the surface. The third causes the watercolor to darken to a deep burgundy.

Slowly, but surely the strikes come faster, switching from one side of the quivering flesh to the other. There is no sound, but the sharp smack of flesh against flesh, and the occasional whistle of air through clenched teeth. He knows soon the stubborn pride will fade and his brother will allow the ache to be released. There is never any doubt in his heart his love will set him free. Free of the pain, the guilt, and the doubt that lurks beneath the mask of indifference.

The exact moment the mask peels away is always obvious. There’s a sharp intake of breath, but this time though it is through lips parted, bitten until they’re swollen and flushed. He can feel his brother’s lungs expand as he fights to keep it locked away. It never works though. No matter how hard he may fight.

A tremor runs through the body that rests pliant and trusting over his thighs. That tremor tells him soon and his lips quirk up in a more honest smile. Tonight it’s taken longer for him to break, to release what has haunted him for too damn long. A deep heartrending sob escapes, shoulders beginning to shake. The last strike seems to snap the final strand of control he begins weeping soft at first, and then his breathing hitches.

Reaching down with a tenderness that belies the size of his hands, he stroked the abused and heated skin causing his brother to release a ragged hiccup of air. He can feel the tears well in his throat, the ones he refuses to shed tonight because tonight is for the one person he loves more than his own life. They have this between them, an understanding they never speak of, yet this understanding is necessary. Leaning in he places a soft kiss on the pulse just beneath his brother’s ear, beat of his heart hot and rapid beneath his lips.

"That’s it." He whispers in that deep tone that sends another wave of trembling through his brother’s already quivering limbs. "Get up."

***

Lifting up, he glances into Sam’s eyes, and his brother smiles wide, dimples deepening. Slowly Sam slides from the end of the bed, long legs folding beneath him as he reaches out to pull Dean down into his lap. He nestles his head in the cradle of Sam’s folded legs, nose buried in the juncture of hip and thigh, the scent of his brother strong and soothing, one that speaks of home and belonging to his heart and soul.

Sam’s hand, that moments before was striking at his flesh, eases down to stroke his temple in a rhythm as familiar as the beating of his own heart. His fingers tangle in the short damp strands of Dean’s hair and Sam hums, just nonsense, but it eases the trembling he can’t seem to control. After a few moments, he can feel his eyes grow heavy with exhaustion and as he slowly begins to sink, he hears Sam’s voice.

"Never think about leaving me again, Dean. No demon in the world can fix what you believe is broken. This was what he wanted, Dean, and who are you to second guess him."

He sighs in reply, and then allows the stroke of Sam’s fingers and the warmth of his skin draw him past the curtain of darkness. He manages one last ragged breath and he knows Sam hears the soft whisper, because Sam always hears him.

"Never."

~Finis~


End file.
